Mabel* (21) has spent the last few years navigating trust issues, body image struggles, and the confusing search for validation, which pushed her into emotionally unfulfilling situations. She opens up about avoidance, self-sabotage, and the feelings she battles with while trying to outrun loneliness.
What’s your current relationship status?
I don’t have a clear answer. I’m in a fling right now, but I still consider myself single. I’ve never been in a proper relationship before, and while I know that’s okay, it’s hard not to feel like something’s wrong with me.
Do you have any idea where that feeling might be coming from?
My relationship with my dad, mostly. My parents divorced when I was much younger, so he wasn’t around. But we fought a lot when I lived with him during my teenage years. He dated younger women, and out of spite, I took it out on them. I’d call them names, hide their belongings, even threaten to destroy their things. Some of those relationships ended because of me.
He’d get so mad and call me abusive names. He even called me a witch more times than I can remember. I love my dad in my own way, but that relationship with the first man in my life shaped my perspective of men. I became extremely guarded around them.
Add that to how I looked growing up. I was dark-skinned, tall, knock-kneed, and always the biggest in class. Boys never approached me. I developed a serious complex about my body and was always defensive. Even now, at over six feet, I still feel out of place. I’ve realised I sabotage anything good before it even starts, because I’m convinced love always ends in pain for me.
How early did you start struggling with body image?
I’ve had body dysmorphia since I was eight. My mum didn’t look like me, so I turned to the internet to figure out how to “fix” myself. That was a disaster.
I did everything from juice fasts to starving myself. When I was 12, I read that French models ate juice-soaked cotton balls to stay full and tried that for a few days. I also forced myself to throw up after meals. People— even family — constantly commented on my weight. I eventually lost some weight in secondary school, but the damage had been done.
Growing up fat was hell. People never kept their mouths shut.
I’m sorry. Have you tried to give love a chance since then?
Kind of. But it didn’t work out. I met Prince* in 2023, during my first year in uni. He was sweet, and we talked for weeks. I thought we were building something real. But then he mentioned that his ex still texted him. He swore he didn’t want her back, that she only reached out when she needed emotional support.
At first, I was okay with it, but over time, I started overthinking. I eventually blocked and ghosted him. He tried to reach out through my friends, asking what he’d done wrong, but I ignored him. I couldn’t explain it myself. I just assumed he’d hurt me, so I left first. It was a “me” problem.
After that, I became obsessed with fixing whatever was “wrong” with me. I talked to several guys at once, not because I liked them, but to test my ability to hold romantic interest. None of it was healthy. Even the conversations started to feel like a chore. I didn’t trust any of them to like me.
So, I turned to losing more weight in the hopes that I’d feel confident again. I lost 20kg early in 2024, but nothing changed.
Curious. Did any of those talking stages evolve into something serious?
Yes. Towards late 2023, I met Jeff* at a party through a mutual friend. He seemed into me and was very attentive. We had sex early on, but I lost interest immediately after. Still, I kept up the act. I pretended to like him too, because he treated me like a princess.
I liked the validation, but at the same time, it made me angry. He’d call me pretty, and I’d start thinking, Would he have said that if I were still fat? Did he really like me or just the new body?
When he mentioned wanting something serious, I panicked and told him I wasn’t emotionally ready. I didn’t want to hurt him, so I ended things.
Hmmm.
That experience forced me to admit I had a lot of work to do on myself. I was avoiding emotional intimacy and repeating the same pattern. I decided not to pursue anything serious until I sorted myself out.
Then in 2024, I met Femi* over the holidays. We’ve had a casual thing for a little over a year now. We meet whenever I’m back in his city, mostly for sex. He told me from the start that he didn’t want a relationship and hasn’t been particularly nice or emotionally caring.
Weirdly, I’ve felt the most intimacy with him. I know it’s not long-term, but it’s something that works for me at the moment.
I chose this, but lately, when I see my friends with good men, I wonder what it’d be like to have someone like their boyfriends — or even their boyfriends themselves.
Why do you think that is? Is it about wanting what they have?
I’ve never genuinely liked someone who liked me back. So when I see my friends being loved and in healthy, stable relationships, I start imagining: What if he were mine? I can’t help it.
It’s not malicious — I’m not trying to steal anyone’s boyfriend — but I wish it could happen for me. There was a time I almost went after a guy my friend had a fling with, but I stopped myself. That’s not who I want to be.
I see. Have you been able to talk to anyone about these feelings?
Not really. I’ve never told my friends, even though they’ve expressed concern about how I handle relationships. I’ve thought about therapy, but I know myself. I have a habit of pretending my problems don’t exist until they blow up. I’m scared I’ll start therapy, promise to change, then ghost my therapist, too. So for now, I just focus on my good friendships and hope I’ll grow out of it all. At least I’ve taken the first step by acknowledging how I feel.
Fair enough. Despite everything, do you still believe in the idea of love for yourself?
Yes. I’m not completely closed off. I think I’d like to try again when I’m more whole. I want to be with someone patient enough to understand me. But I know I might hurt them if I’m not ready, so I’m not rushing it.
I still have to do a lot of work on myself, and I’m still struggling to get past my trust issues.
So, how would you say the streets are treating you? Rate it on a scale of 1-10
I’d give it an 8.5. I like that I don’t feel pressured to impress anyone or fear disappointing someone, but it can get lonely sometimes.
I won’t give it a 10 because deep down, I know I still have some things to work through if I want to be genuinely happy in a relationship someday.
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